


Detox

by wishingonalightningbolt



Series: The Bloodstream is a Fragile Thing [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, Hate Sex, Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex, angsty sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonalightningbolt/pseuds/wishingonalightningbolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all intents and purposes, it doesn’t make any sense in the fucking world.  Derek Hale hasn’t laid eyes on Allison Argent in six years, not since she was 18 and left to go do whatever it was she was going to do.  She went to college, to grad school too apparently, and now she’s back in Beacon Hills for an undetermined amount of time, and no one else but him is losing his head.  Because, for some fucking reason, Allison Argent will not leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horchatita394](https://archiveofourown.org/users/horchatita394/gifts).



For all intents and purposes, it doesn’t make any sense in the fucking world.  Derek Hale hasn’t laid eyes on Allison Argent in six years, not since she was 18 and left to go do whatever it was she was going to do.  She went to college, to grad school too apparently, and now she’s back in Beacon Hills for an undetermined amount of time, and no one else but him is losing his head.  Because, for some fucking reason, Allison Argent will not leave him alone.

He doesn’t mean that literally.  See, the pack’s good.  Almost everyone is back home, everyone except for Danny and Lydia, who are off changing the world with their genius—except that Danny now works for a security company in Beacon Hills, so even though he’s not currently in the city, he will be in about two weeks.  Lydia is on the other side of the country, writing essays and giving lectures and earning her PhD, which makes Derek a little bit jealous.  She could have done that in California, but she still gives them her expertise when they need her.  Thankfully, ever since Scott established his role as the Alpha of Beacon Hills and starting building up the pack again, it’s been fairly quiet.  It helps that their emissary is known to kick a lot of werewolf butt, even though he’s only a human.

Everyone else has stuck around, including the twins.  Isaac, Malia, Kira, and Derek.  Ethan, Aiden, Danny, Stiles, and Scott—all together, they’re not a bad group, especially not since they have the Sheriff and Chris on their side.  And then, of course, there’s fucking Allison.

Derek doesn’t actually see Allison until she’s been back for a few weeks, and at that point, they’re in the damn grocery store.  And from that moment on, Derek Hale cannot stop thinking about Allison Argent.

It makes no sense.  They’re adults, Allison was Scott’s first love, his anchor for a long period of time, and Derek—Derek’s been running around and getting his heart broken all over the place.  His last few attempts at relationships may not have ended as poorly as the first three, but all the same, it hasn’t been a picnic, and so Derek tends to stay away from the destructive types.  Allison is definitely a destructive type.  She’s cute, Derek can admit that, gorgeous really, and she’s fearless.  She’s hard, energetic, fierce, talented.  She’s a lot like her aunt, except that she can admit when she’s made a mistake, and she doesn’t go around breaking people for fun.

Derek actually hasn’t seen Allison since that first run-in at the grocery store.  They said a few words, talked about school, small talk, that kind of thing, and then they went their own ways.  Allison was only going to be staying around her dad’s for a little while, supposedly, since it seemed as if she had a job waiting for her further south, except Derek doesn’t quite believe that, even if Allison’s heartbeat gave nothing away.

Derek is a healthy man.  He’s been sexually active since the age of sixteen, which, in retrospect, is not something to be proud of, and he’s had just over a handful of sexual partners in his life.  He is fully aware that he should be in control of his thoughts, that there’s no reason one 6-minute encounter should make him act like a complete fucking lunatic, but—but apparently some things are out of whack because that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He’s expecting Danny to arrive one afternoon, standing around his apartment—which no longer looks like a decrepit pit of despair and shame like it once had—eating cereal out of a bowl with the television on in the background.  When there’s a knock at the door, Derek is reading an email on his phone, distracted, and he walks over to open it up without all of his senses engaged.  So, when he lifts his head and Allison Argent is standing on the other side of the door, he may panic just slightly.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

Derek nods stiffly, stepping aside.  He closes the door behind her, one hand still awkwardly clutching his cereal bowl.

“So.”  She makes her way towards the little kitchen, leaning against the counter and examining the loft.  “Very bachelor of you,” she tells him, “bed right within view of the door.  Television, couches—no rug?”  She cranes her head up the staircase.  “Bookshelves.  Extra bedroom and bath?”

“What are you doing here?”  He doesn’t mean to say it, not really, it just kind of happens, but the words come out and Allison looks at him.

She shrugs one shoulder.  “Scott and Stiles are out doing things and I don’t have anyone else to spend time with in this town.”

“Since when do we spend time together?”

She looks amused, and Derek just knows that she has him by the balls.  This is his problem with strong women—they make his knees weak and his mouth dry.  He knows he could say no, knows that Allison wouldn’t do anything Derek didn’t give complete and explicit consent to, but he also knows that even though the logical thing to do would be to say no, that’s not a thing any part of him but his brain actually wants.

“Stiles said you’ve been weird lately,” Allison informs him.  “You’re kind of blanking out a lot, apparently very distracted.”

“Stiles is a space cadet,” Derek mutters, moving past her to put his bowl in the sink.  “If anyone knows anything about distraction, it’s him.”

Allison steps closer, hand on Derek’s forearm.  “I’m not an idiot, Derek, and I’m not a kid.  So, feel free to say no, but otherwise, there are better things we could be doing.”

“You realize how ridiculously fucked up this is, right?”

She shrugs, and somehow Derek has found himself with his ass against the counter, Allison is front of him, pressed very close.  “Doesn’t seem that weird to me.”

Honestly, Derek doesn’t even like Allison that much, hadn’t when they first met, hadn’t during the kanima fiasco, the Alpha pack nonsense, the darach, the demons, the wendigo, the flood of hunters—nothing that’s happened, nothing he and Allison have been directly involved with has made Derek like her.  He’s tolerated her, appreciated her usefulness when she offered some, and felt bad for her when her life got overthrown by this sick town with its sick rules, but he never liked her, not really.

He doesn’t think he even likes her now.

“I don’t usually have sex with people I’m not dating,” Derek says, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Allison smirks.  “Really?  So, that time you and—”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“Obviously not.”  Her hands are low on his stomach, her breasts pressing against his chest, her mouth right there—

Derek is one hundred percent aware of his level of sexual prowess.  He’s hot, he knows, strong and agile and fairly talented in the bedroom department.  At least, since the first few times, he’s never had any complaints.  (And he still stands by the fact that they don’t count because the person doesn’t count.)  So, he’s not nervous when he gathers Allison with his hands under her thighs and hoists her up against the fridge, but he is shaking just a little bit because he can’t remember ever having been so confused about what he wanted.

It’s easy to make out like teenagers, moving and grinding against each other.  Allison is wearing jeans but her thighs are tight and strong around Derek’s waist, and she’s making high, breathy noises while she kisses him, body arching.  It would be even easier to just shove their pants down and do it right here, get it over with, fuck her like it doesn’t mean anything and let her take what she wants from him.  The bed doesn’t feel right for this. 

Allison’s hands have obviously stopped grasping at his hair and moved on to bigger and better things, because when he comes back from his train of thought flying off the tracks, his shirt is being pulled over his head and his jeans are undone.  He’s barefoot, but Allison isn’t.  Luckily enough, she’s wearing these dumb black heels that make her legs and ass look phenomenal—he knows, he checked her out when she walked in—and so he just presses her more securely up against the fridge with his body and uses one hand to grab and remove the shoes currently digging into his ass.  She makes a noise, moaning against his chin, and Derek grits his teeth.  She’s going to kill him, probably.  He wouldn’t be surprised if her body was taken over by something and this was all a furious plot to see him finally disposed of.

“Stop thinking and put me down,” Allison demands.  One of her hands is hooked around his neck, the other flat on his chest.

“Why?” he asks.

She arches an eyebrow.  “I want your mouth on me,” she answers honestly, and Derek is so hard just that sentence makes him waver.  “So put me on your bed, or get on your knees.”

Somehow, she seems to pick up on the fact that Derek doesn’t want her making her bed smell like perfume and sex, and her perception is a skill Derek would be a bit jealous of if he weren’t a werewolf.

Allison’s top comes off easily, the halter strap around her neck untied in just a tug and falling freely down to her ankles.  She kicks it away towards the stove and Derek, already on his knees, helps her off with her jeans.  Her breasts are—they’re—

Derek has never found good adjective to describe breasts.  They’re breasts, soft and perky and pink, and he nuzzles and licks at them too while Allison is bent over trying to get her jeans off her calves.  She puts a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, obviously surprised, but she doesn’t seem to mind.  His hand slips between her thighs, the fabric of her underwear wet and thin, and honestly the last time Derek wanted to fuck someone this badly, he had been celibate for three years.

Allison straightens up, one hand curling in Derek’s hair.  “We don’t have all day.”

Her panties are lacy, practically see-through already, and they’re pointless now, so here she stands, completely naked in his kitchen, up against his fridge, one leg propped up over his shoulder, one hand holding onto the top of the fridge so that she doesn’t fall, and the other buried in Derek’s hair, his face between her thighs.

Derek appreciates sex.  He appreciates the human body.  And he tries, honestly, to put as much effort as he can into pleasing his sexual partners, which often means engaging in oral sex.  No one has ever told him he’s disappointing at this, and it seems as if Allison would agree.  The moans and sighs coming out of her are very good for his ego, and he can feel it when she’s getting close, her body tightening and straining, at which point he pulls away entirely to nibble down towards her knees.

“Fuck you,” she gasps, tugging.

Derek ignores her, biting on the soft skin of her inner thigh for a moment before he returns to the task at hand.  Or mouth.

When she comes, it’s in shaking, gasping throbs.  Her head hits the fridge forcefully, and Derek would be worried except that she still appears to be in complete control of her limbs.  At least, all control that’s to be expected having just had an orgasm.

She falls into his lap, face buried in his neck.

“I have condoms in my purse,” she tells him.

Before now, part of Derek’s mind had expected her to get up and leave, having gotten her own.  But she doesn’t move, arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist.  Derek is so turned on it’s a miracle he hasn’t just laid her out on the floor and pushed himself inside of her.  He spares a thought to it, and he almost thinks she would enjoy the ridiculousness of it, but instead he stands with her still wrapped around him like a monkey, grabs her purse from the counter and carries her the five steps to the couch.

“Awww,” she says, smiling smugly.  “How sweet.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Derek grunts.  “The hardwood is murder on my knees.”

“You’re a werewolf,” she reminds him.  “You’ll live.”

He kisses her again, just to shut her up.  It seems to work, her body loose and easy against his, under his.  He’s still wearing jeans, but Allison does nothing to remove them, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and kisses him lazily.

“Impatient,” she notes when she presses his dick against her stomach.

“I’d apologize but I already made you come, so—”

Allison rolls her eyes and then rolls them, nearly causing them both to fall off the couch as she sits up and shoves Derek over so that she’s on top, hands on his chest, knees on either side of his waist.

“Gonna ride me?” Derek asks, one eyebrow arching.  Kind of nice, he thinks, lying back and letting Allison do all the work, but he should’ve known it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

She says nothing while she tugs off his jeans and boxer briefs.  She gives his dick a couple of quick tugs, his pre-come just enough to make it feel good.  The condom is nothing to her but quick work—tear, pinch, roll—and then she’s leaning up over him, lining him up to push inside of her.

“Fuck me,” Derek mutters, eyes closing and head falling back against the armrest.

“Maybe next time,” Allison coos.  “I have a strap-on, if you’re interested.”

Derek bites his cheek, refusing to dignify that with a response.  Instead, he grabs onto Allison’s ass.  “C’mon.”

It’s the laugh that makes him nervous.  High and bright and genuinely amused, that’s how she sounds, and then she’s yanking him into an upright position, situating his hands when she wants them, and pressing in close, mouth a breath away from his.  “You’re strong, right?” she asks, a tease.

Derek blinks.  “Yeah.”

“Lift me.”

Derek has lifted cars, parts of torn-down buildings, and 200-pound men.  Allison is nothing compared to those, a buck twenty at most, but to be fair, Derek has never lifted cars, buildings, or men while having sex (at least not any that large), and so he suspects it may make a bit of a difference.  Everything is different when his dick is concerned.

God, it doesn’t matter, though, not now.  She’s tight and hot and slick, everything that teenage boys want to hear, and it makes him a little ashamed honestly, but he can’t help it.  He just buries his face against her collarbone and does as she asked.

“Put some effort into it,” Allison says, but her voice is breathy and she’s obviously enjoying it.  Derek can tell, the waves of pleasure and satisfaction still emanating not only from her orgasm, but also just from the heavy presence of Derek inside of her.  She likes it, likes his body, and Derek is fully aware of the effect his body can have on women.  Allison is, apparently, no exception.

He won’t let her win, though, can let her think she has the high ground.  So, yes, he does put more effort into it, finds something inside of her that makes her eyes fly open and breath hitch.  Her hands tighten on his shoulder and neck and her body squeezes.

“Fuck—you—”

“I can stop,” Derek tells her, fucking her deeper and longer with every second that passes, grinding in and holding her there.  She bites his jaw.  “No?”

“If you come before I—”

“I’ll come when I want to,” Derek interrupts, and he captures her mouth in a bruising kiss.  Still, he doesn’t stop, because Allison knows now that Derek has the upper hand, that he’s at least partly in control of her pleasure, and even though she wanted a second orgasm out of this, maybe he’s just got her all worked up for nothing.

“Oh, shut up,” Allison spits when she pulls away, and her hands are forceful on his chest, pushing Derek back down.  She does ride him then, head down and hair falling over her shoulders.  Derek wants to put on a show, put his hands behind his head to make sure she realizes what he’s brought out of her, but it’s hard to feel boastful when Allison is using his cock as her own personal dildo.

How the tables have turned.

Her second orgasm hits seemingly out of nowhere.  (For all of his talk, Derek wasn’t actually going to come before her, at least not as long as he could help it.)  She seems surprised by it too, digging her nails into him and gasping, holding on and just pushing faster, making sweet, desperate noises as it rolls over her.

Derek’s response is hurried.  If he takes too long, Allison will kick him off and leave him there, overjoyed at her triumph.  He flips them, gathering her up while she’s still shaking from the aftershocks, and it only takes a moment.  She doesn’t begrudge him that, sucking on that spot under his ear that she’d discovered during the early moments of their romp against the fridge.  He comes, groaning, and grinds inside of her, just to feel the way her body reacts.

For minutes they lie there together, not consciously seeking the comfort or the closeness, just too damn lazy to move.  Eventually, Allison shoves him aside and squirms out from underneath him, standing and going for her clothes.  Derek watches as she puts on her jeans without reaching for her underwear, her shirt done up around her neck so quickly that Derek wonders for the millionth time if women in general really are just magic.

She slips on her shoes and clomps around the kitchen, folding up a paper towel and running it under the tap.  When Derek enters, having pulled his jeans on after getting up from the couch, he drops the condom in the trash and doesn’t bother trying not to stare as she drags the wet towel down her neck and over her forehead.  Still, she says nothing as she tosses it away and picks up her underwear, putting them in her purse.

“Relax,” Allison says, smiling just barely.  “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Scott’s still half in love with you.”

“That’s how it is with first loves—we’ll never be completely over each other.  What?  Are you worried because he’s your Alpha?”

“That’s not—just—no.”

She smirks.  “Liar.  Hey, if any one of us has any reason to fear for our lives because of jealous exes, I think it’s me.”  She gives him a pointed look and he rolls his eyes, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.  Laughing, she passes him and approaches the door.  “Nice seeing you again, Derek,” she sings, and then she’s gone, the door closing behind her with finality.

 

* * *

 

 

When Derek wakes up, it’s 7 o’clock and he’s an hour late for the pack meeting.  He has three missed calls, five missed text messages, and he forgot to hang up his towel after his shower.  He grabs shoes, a jacket, and his car keys, and is out the door in five minutes.

Scott lives in an apartment closer to the middle of town, more expensive, closer to the hustle and bustle of the small city, but Derek pulls into the only parking spot left on the street and sprints up, ignoring the elevator.

When he comes in, Scott is saying something about changes.  Derek doesn’t really listen, can’t since Scott stops speaking as soon as he walks in.

“About time.”

“Sorry, I fell asleep.”  Derek waves a hand, encouraging him to continue speaking, and ducks into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

He isn’t there for three minutes before there’s a knock at the door.  He’s still standing, leaning against the corner of the couch and listening to Scott continue on about how things will be different now since Danny is coming back into town and they have to get him used to their newly established regimen of pack life.  He says something else about new faces, and Derek is really fucking hoping he means Lydia because—

There’s someone behind that fucking door, and Derek hates everything.

“Allison,” Derek says when he opens it up, clenching his jaw.  “What a surprise.”

“Hey, there,” Allison laughs, stepping into the apartment.  “Scott asked me to stick around for a while,” she explains, grabbing the beer out of his hand and pushing past him, flopping down on the couch next to Stiles.  She’s practically daring him to say something. 

The entire room is a mix of different emotions.  Stiles looks confused, Isaac looks shocked, the twins look terribly amused, and Scott looks like he just learned something he really didn’t want to know.

Allison shrugs.  “Pack business, Beacon Hills things, weapons details.”  She takes a long pull of the drink, squirming into the cushions.  “So, this’ll be fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, despite not shipping the couple in any sense myself, for horchatita394's birthday - which happens to be today. So, happy birthday, and here's to many more!
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo


End file.
